


the lengths i'd go (for you and only you)

by seryters



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seryters/pseuds/seryters
Summary: Dream makes a lot of mistakes during his time as ruler, but his biggest one—or so he thinks—is not telling George he loved him sooner.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	the lengths i'd go (for you and only you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on events that happened in the Dream SMP lore! I edited some events and changed the order of a few things just for the sake of getting this prompt out of my head..
> 
> This is very fast-paced and mainly just my quick contribution to Knight!Dream and King!George before I lose my head.

Dream knows the consequences of being a ruler. He knows them too well.

It’s a constant target aimed at your head, a bounty attached to your name; it’s a lifelong commitment to torture.

Stepping into power was fairly easy. Nobody questioned him. How could they? This was land that  _ he _ found, a kingdom that  _ he _ built, but more importantly: he was the walking personification of power (if it were to exist) with his eyes made of steel, sharper than the blade of his axe. 

It was maintaining power that became the problem. Petty theft, useless fighting, a lot of inner turmoil that Dream realized he couldn’t handle on his own. However, sharing the power became his first mistake.

Naturally, he gave Kingship to one of his closest friends. A man who had scouted the area with him, helped build the initial foundation with him, had been through every battle with him. King George. Dream assumed the position of Knight Commander, sealing a mask over his face and working in the shadows. It was better this way. 

With a King in power, the responsibilities fell on him, not Dream. Though, George didn’t seem mind, even appearing to be a little enthusiastic of his newfound power. His decisions were curt and kept the people’s best interest at heart; the kingdom loved him.

But of course, the pressure became a lot to bear at one point.

Late at night, when he was guarding George’s chamber doors, Sapnap had approached him. He, too, was a knight—though he was much more vocal about the pride and glory. “King George assigned me to this post tonight,” Sapnap dipped his head. Despite them having a long history of being friends, Dream was a rank above him and so he needed to show respect; it was in the knight’s code.

Dream nodded and loosened his posture, making way for Sapnap to take his stand. “He also requested to see you, sire,” Sapnap added on before getting into proper positioning.

Dream furrowed his eyebrows together, attaching his axe to the holster on his back, and acknowledged the request with a raised eyebrow. His hands gripped the golden handles, giving the tall doors a hefty push. They swung open and Dream let them shut behind him before he announced his presence.

George had heard him enter, but made no move to elaborate on why he required Dream’s presence. That is until Dream had asked, voice stern and formal; there was no room for friendship anymore. It was too risky.

With eyes glossed over, unshed tears clung to long lashes, George had looked up at him. And then his arms had spread, so slowly that they seemed injured. Dream hesitated, knowing his position as knight and knowing that this was unprofessional, but George persisted. There was a pout drawn on his lips and his cheeks were rosy, an aftermath of what Dream assumed to be hours of frustrated crying.

“Please, Clay,” George whispered. The torch by the door flickered dangerously. “Just for tonight.” Even in the past, there was a line they had never crossed. No matter how many times their gazes had met shyly and no matter how many times their touches lingered for more than intended, they remained what they were: best friends.

However, at that point, when Dream had discarded his armor and weapons by the foot of the bed and embraced George so gently (as if he were to break) it had felt different. It felt like they’d shed a layer they didn’t mean to. George, in Dream’s arms, weeping away his insecurities and fatigue while Dream sat still, his stare too fond and too telling.

“I can’t do this.” George had sounded so broken, it shattered Dream. This power over him, Dream decided, was something that couldn’t exist. “I can’t, Clay, this isn’t meant for me.”

Dream cradled George’s face into his calloused palms, staring into those hazel eyes that looked so frightened and so lost. “You’re a great king, George,” he attempted at reassurance, brushing away George’s messy fringe. “I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you.” The promise he made that night had been heavy, but never (not once) had Dream doubted those words.

They’d fallen asleep together that night, George tucked safely in Dream’s arms, but both of them had silently sworn that into secrecy. Sapnap, who had been the only other person to know, seemed disinterested and Dream knew he would never put either of them in harm's way.

George’s confidence rose day by day since the incident. He looked happier now and more fit to rule a kingdom. A hero, like the ones you hear in folklore by the campfire; everything the people needed as well as everything the people wanted. Behind royal gates, everyone knew Dream still had a majority of the power, but George was the face of their nation and Dream was okay with that. George knew when to input his ideas and his ideas were, for the most part, better than anyone else’s—even Dream’s.

Being the face of the kingdom, as Dream knows, is dangerous. And while Dream is aware he has more of an influence than George, he finds himself more scared to lose George than to die himself. Their relationship is much more than just a King and his loyal knight; with Dream refusing to let anyone but himself guard George, how could it not be? Even Sapnap, who Dream knew in his heart that he could trust, was casted to the side. George’s life was far too important for him to leave in the hands of anyone but himself.

That was his second mistake.

To love was easy, but to let go was hard. And letting go came too soon for Dream.

The night George had decided to rest in his cottage, outside the gates of the royal palace, Dream had been on high alert. George wanted privacy and since he was the king, no one could deny him that. Not even Dream. So George had been allowed to rest in that humble abode of his, the one he’d lived in before he had gotten crowned, and Dream was left itching with worry.

Then it happened. The fire.

Dream, who had convinced George to let him camp relatively nearby just in case, heard the sounds of maniacal laughter. Children, multiple. The smell of smoke caught up to him quickly and then the bright flames eating away at the trees nearby.

His thighs burned with the speed at which he raced to the shack and his heart lurched out of his chest when he caught sight of George, hunched over and pleading for help. Each breath he took was a wheeze, a cough, or a mixture. Dream grabbed a hold of him, dragging him out of the burning forest and into the safety of the cobblestone pathway leading into the village. There were ashes smeared across George’s face and Dream could feel the heat radiating off of George’s clothing as well as his skin. It had been too close for comfort.

George had nearly died, (but Dream felt like he was the one that did).

So, Eret becomes the new king. George protests with all his might, arguing that this wasn’t what the people wanted and that he could do better—that he  _ was _ better.

“I thought you believed me!” George cried, shoving at Dream’s chest with all his might when Dream had come to collect him from his old chambers. “You swore an oath,” George’s shoulders raised with disappointment and regret, “and you broke it.” With another sigh of disbelief, George parted from him, arms swinging limply at his sides. “What ever happened to a Knight’s honor?”

Dream pushed the door open, waiting to escort George out. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Tension rose between them; George burned with anger and Dream refused to listen. (Or he listened, but wordlessly, which felt worse in all aspects.)

“Please follow me outside.” There was more Dream wanted to say—of course there was more—but that was all he  _ could _ say. For George’s sake, Dream needed him far, far away. It wasn’t safe here anymore.

Dream’s arms, which felt more like home than anywhere else to George, rested strictly at his sides as he felt George curl up against him as if for the last time. “We were never meant to be.” That was all Dream could muster when they separated.

George’s family was displeased to say the least, but George.. smiled. It was a ghost of a smile, but Dream could tell that he meant it. “I suppose,” George had said as he clung to the door for support. “You can’t end what never started.”

Dream realizes now, that there were so many things he could’ve done differently. So many places he could’ve shown George, so many words he could’ve said, so many things he could’ve done, but nothing would’ve changed the outcome. At the end, being around Dream would only put George in danger. Ironic, Dream thinks, because he’s willing to lay his life down for George.

George adapts quickly, Dream learns. He returns to his old habits and his cheerfulness returns. People who spot him in the street and recognize him, don’t point and stare. They bow their heads out of respect, despite his demotion. Dream watches from afar. 

This is his King, no matter who sits on the throne.

Eret calls him out on it. They’re seated at the round table, discussing strategies to push back King Wilbur’s rebellious forces when Eret catches Dream in a daze. “Sir Dream,” Eret stands up, his voice has no room for warmth. “I have excused your frivolous affairs for too long. You will either prioritize your duty as knight or you shall be dismissed.”

“With all due respect, King Eret,” Dream replies, not bothering to fix his posture as he tugs up his mask just enough for Eret to meet his eyes. “I have done nothing that I am being accused of.”

Eret’s palm slams onto the table, shriveling the map laid out on top of it. “You have been far too loyal to things—to people, shall I say?—that aren’t the state.” Everyone else keeps their gaze straight ahead, not daring to look either ruler in the eye. “I am your King. You placed me in this position, remember? Your loyalty belongs to  _ me _ now.”

A few strides forward takes Dream to Eret and for the first time, he raises his voice. “Do  _ not _ speak to  _ me _ of loyalty!” His hand reaches up, fingers tight around Eret’s crown before it gets tossed aside carelessly out of anger. “I can strip you of all the power you have,  _ Eret. _ I gave you this,” Dream gestures around the grand vicinity. “All of this!”

His voice then drops, quiet and lethal, each word hitting the shell of Eret’s ear. “And I can take it away.” A snap of his fingers. “Just like that.. and you wouldn’t be able to do a  _ thing. _ Nobody,” Dream laughs, readjusting his mask as he takes a step back and then turns around. 

“Nobody cares about you enough to try and stop me.” 

The anger that looms inside of him burns for days and doesn’t ebb away. Not until Dream allows himself some form of solace, deep in the woods, where it’s just him and his thoughts. His thoughts are usually a dangerous place, but today they provide him a slither of happiness.

If it were up to him, George would be lying down beside him. They’d be watching the sun try its best to peek through clouds and then the canopy of trees. They’d be hand in hand, Dream’s larger one engulfing George’s, as they whispered their future plans: lives spent together. Maybe they’d work on rebuilding George’s forgotten cottage. Here, the area was secluded, forlorn, they’d be safe.

“I knew you’d be here.”

Dream begins to find that hope has made him delusional. Above him, dressed in an aristocrat’s robe, is George. His hair is styled and there is a golden pendant dangling above Dream’s face. Warm hands cup either side of his head, thumb brushing over Dream’s cheeks, and he finds his head being lifted and placed onto a cushioned surface: George’s lap.

“You’re worried,” George whispers, so close that Dream can count his lashes and the faint freckles dotted across his face. “What’s gotten you so upset?”

In his dreams, George calls him  _ love _ .

“You,” Dream mumbles, vulnerable only when nobody can see him this way. If they were to learn, if they were to  _ know _ —Dream shudders at what would happen. “I miss you,” he admits. “I miss you everyday,” his throat feels raw at the confession. “I wish things were different.” For one last time, he reaches a hand up, carding his fingers into the gaps between George’s.

The smile George gives him is sad and Dream knows what it means.

George slips through his fingers.

When he returns to the village, it’s in chaos. Fire is catching quickly on each wooden surface it kisses and all Dream can hear are shrill cries of the weak. The gates to the royal palace have been sealed shut.

“Sir Dream, am I correct?”

On a horse, sits a man with a wicked grin. His crown is perched lopsidedly on his head, clinging to brunette curls. “Wilbur,” Dream greets. His hand instinctively reaches behind his head, gripping the handle of his axe.

“You know, Dream,” Wilbur snickers, his own sword at hand. “I’ve always wondered what made you so powerful.” The horse’s hooves leave taunting marks across the dirt that Dream stands on. “Is it that axe of yours?” Wilbur mutters, sliding his sword against the edge of Dream’s blade. The noise is irritating. “Is it your wit?” Dream watches silently as Wilbur demounts his horse and takes his time to readjust his shield.

“And then I had someone watch you,” Wilbur laughs, tossing his head back without a care in the world. If Dream wanted to, he could kill him now. Wilbur knows. But Dream won’t and Wilbur knows that too. “I had them watch you for a very, very long time and I realized that.. Dream. You don’t keep attachments do you?”

Dream withdraws his axe, grip far too tight on the handle. Behind him, something succumbs to the overwhelming heat and falls.

“They make you weak, so,” Wilbur tilts his head as a smirk forms on his lips. “You lost everything to gain everything.” Dream lunges forwards, but Wilbur swiftly dodges, holding Dream back with his sword. “But I know your secret!” The laughter of tyranny rings as they aim for each other once more, metal clashing against metal. Wilbur draws his face closer, staring at Dream as if he can see through the mask.

“It’s him,” Wilbur whispers and Dream freezes at that. Before he can react, Wilbur’s sword slashes down, narrowly missing Dream’s head. When his mask cracks and falls onto the ground in front of him, Dream realizes that this was Wilbur’s plan all along. To see the emotions he had been hiding for so long.

Behind Wilbur, a few feet away from the roaring fire that surrounds them, Dream sees what Wilbur means. George is kneeling on the ground, much like he did the day of the first fire, with his hand on his chest and tears running down his face.

Beside him stands a man with a crossbow aimed for his head.

“You’re so smart, Dream,” Wilbur sneers, sheathing his sword. The confidence he exudes tells Dream where this is headed. “But you weren’t smart enough. See, unlike you, I was actually able to forget about attachments.” Lazily, Wilbur fixes the crown on his head and then waves his hand in the air dismissively. Dream watches with horror as George gets kicked to the ground and before he can stop himself, he takes a step forward.

Wilbur stops him in his tracks, cocky grin expressing that he knows he’s won. “The kingdom for your lover. Bring me Eret’s crown.”

“You hardly need me for that. Your men are storming the castle as we speak,” Dream replies, frown seemingly permanent on his face. “Just let the villager go.” It’s a reach, Dream thinks, but if he can keep his act up for just a second more.. maybe, just maybe, Wilbur will bargain for something else.

“Villager?” Wilbur scoffs. “Regardless, I need  _ you _ to hand me the crown, Dream. We know you’re the true ruler of this kingdom. I would only get full control if I got the power from  _ you. _ ”

“So kill me,” Dream argues, dropping his axe onto the floor. “Kill me and nobody will ever question you again.” A flash of desire flickers in Wilbur’s eyes at the offer. Dream latches onto the opportunity, “In the town square, where everybody can see. That’s better than a useless villager, don’t you think?”

Wilbur tosses a glance over his shoulder in contemplation. There’s a brief second where George meets Dream’s eyes, fearful (but not for himself), and Dream wills himself to look away. “The people love him. If you kill him, you will only create more enemies.” This much is true and with the way people are crowded in the shadows, watching the event happen in real time, Dream knows Wilbur will have to concede.

“Fine,” Wilbur shrugs, giving the order for the Knight to release George. George immediately runs for Dream but the second he gets close enough, Dream swings his arm out, hitting George in the chest once to knock him onto the ground. “Don’t touch me.”

“Dream,  _ Clay, _ you don’t have to do this,” George’s words come out jumbled.

“Come with me,” Wilbur orders, voice stern as he stares at Dream. Dream gives George one last look. “I did it for the kingdom, not you.”

“That’s not true,” George denies, trying to stand up onto his feet again. A kick to the shin and he falls once again, at the mercy of Dream who towers over him. “I don’t know what lies you’ve told yourself,” Dream says as he walks over to where Wilbur is standing. “But I don’t care about you. I don’t care about anything, but the well-being of  _ my _ kingdom.”

And then, they’re pacing to the town square.

It’s silent when Wilbur draws his sword again. People are gathered, watching like hawks, but Dream doesn’t bring himself to look them in the eyes. He knows what they think—that this is for the best, that Dream brought this upon himself (and upon them)—but the reason he doesn’t look isn’t because of judgement.

It’s because George is standing in the crowd, aching to go save him, and the only reason he can’t is because Sapnap knows to hold him still.

“From now on,” Wilbur says, nodding once to order Dream to take off his upper torso’s armor. The chestplate falls by his feet. “You all will acknowledge me as your new ruler.” Dream drops to his knees, letting his head fall so that the execution can be cleaner. “And I will save this village from this tyrant.”

“ _ Stop! _ ” George cries out, tearing his arm away from Sapnap’s grasp. Only when he intervenes is there a ruckus. Dream makes his final mistake: he looks up. George is barely within arm’s reach when a knight from behind yanks out his crossbow.

Dream’s scream of protest, agony, and despair is futile. The crossbow fires and Dream feels the unkindled fire in him burn as his arms fling forwards, wrapping around George’s waist. Dream feels the air slice past his face as they tumble forwards, his chest pressed against George’s as they fall onto the ground.

“George..” For the first time, Dream allows himself to sound scared. Everyone’s eyes are on them; there’s no way Dream is going to be able to hide his affection after this. The pain sears through his chest.

“You’re okay,” there’s a smile on Dream’s face and he ignores the blood that drips from his lips and trickles down George’s cheek. “Thank god,” he whispers, struggling to keep his eyes open. Beneath him, George is frightened. His hand is splayed over the area where the point of the arrow pierce through Dream’s chest. Blood flows like wine down his forearm.

“No,” George whispers, unable to comprehend the situation enough to form tears at first. “No, no,  _ no. _ ” The dam finally breaks as Dream collapses on top of him, clinging to life by a thin thread.

“I’m fine,” Dream lies for the last time. He wants the last thing he sees to be George’s eyes, so he reaches up slowly, brushing away the tears that won’t stop falling. “I love you.”

They have to savor this, Dream thinks. Their final moments together. It’s a shame that they have to reunite only to separate again right after, but Dream will take what he can get. “I’ll wait for you, I will.” White spots begin to cloud Dream’s vision and the ringing begins to take over George’s heartbroken rambling. “But I don’t want you to wait for me,” Dream lets his hand fall, right over George’s trembling one. His pinky hooks weakly onto George’s to seal his dying promise.

“I love you too.” George’s voice is fading, just like the colors that Dream can see, until everything is black.

He feels the last beat of his heart. It’s for George. It’s always been for George.

Dream acknowledges that he’s made a lot of mistakes, but with George alive and  _ safe _ , he dies without regrets. 

_ To love is better than to never have loved at all. _

**Author's Note:**

> This au is something I definitely want to revisit when I find a better prompt! I apologize if this felt rushed and messy, I really just wanted to get this idea out of my head. ;___; DNF lives in my mind RENT FREE at this point ahhhh.
> 
> Thank you all for giving this a chance and reading it though! :)
> 
> Comments are always welcome and super duper appreciated.


End file.
